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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543292">maybe I'll speak to you (maybe I'll walk this line)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana'>Laeana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ℓove is a seduction game, [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Falling In Love, Feels, First Meetings, Language of Flowers, M/M, Unrequited Love?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:08:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To give, to give without expecting anything in return. And this crush that seems to take a concrete shape can hurt him from so many ways.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Valtteri Bottas/Daniil Kvyat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ℓove is a seduction game, [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>maybe I'll speak to you (maybe I'll walk this line)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490605">twenty twelve</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana">Laeana</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Valtteri works part time in a flower shop and meets Daniil in the course of one of Pierre's visits.</p><p>(featuring : twenty twelve by matt maeson)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He never thought it suited him for a job. Level, build, size, he would have done better to go and do anything else, maybe even a bodyguard would have been better, but he had ended up here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three times a week he came to the store, put on an apron and walked behind the counter. It occupied his days and it took him out of the scope of his studies. Plus, he was making money.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The owner, a man named Sebastian, was kind enough to him. He had learned the basics quickly and was now quite familiar with botany. Easy. He memorized all kinds of things relatively quickly that would probably have no importance to others but could find favor with his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He arranges a bouquet with his large hands. He would have thought he was clumsy and in the end was much more skillful. Simple enough. He avoids the thorns and ties a ribbon around the base, wrapping a fabric. He goes through the register. He has almost finished all the orders for the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bell rings and a customer enters the store. He comes back from the back room and takes a light look at the newcomer, or rather the newcomers. Two boys younger than him. One is called Pierre, he is a regular and from what he could see of his meticulously chosen flowers, he saw a painful love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if this love involves Charles Leclerc then perhaps it is justified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to judge what doesn't concern him. After all, appearances aren't the best. They do not represent the person they designate. He is in a good position to know that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daniil Kvyat, computer science student but not in exactly the same course. They know each other by sight. The Russian has passed a hand behind the Frenchman's back as if to support him and he looks away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to talk about a crush. That does not make any sense. He tells himself that it will be a day like any other where Pierre will make his choice and will come to the cashier then so he starts another bouquet. A varied floral arrangement. Feelings that scatter, something strong. Eternal. He hesitates between camellias and acanthus.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— Camellias are beautiful, especially to symbolize eternal love.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up and finds himself quite surprised to meet Daniil's, who looks absorbed despite his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— You know things about flowers ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— I had a loved one whose passion was. Who are they for ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— Oh, well, not for me. It’s an order.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He smoothes the petals with a distracted gesture before wrapping them quickly, using a light purple ribbon as requested.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— It's for a grave. A sad story like that of a man who never returned home after the war. A friend drops flowers every month.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— A friend ?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The youngest one leans towards him, brushing the knot with his fingertips as well as his hand. He almost cringes, wincing inwardly at these feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— I'll take hemlock today, says Pierre, breaking the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— Really ?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He recovers quickly. Professional, Valtteri, professional.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— Would you like a bouquet ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— Yes, the same as usual, thank you.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Daniil stepped back and moved back to the other student, as if it was the most natural for him. They whisper among themselves, he hurries to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— Yes, Dany, I'm sure of my choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— You should stop this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— I know, I ... I know.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He accounts and settles, collects the money, relaxes his shoulders when they leave the shop. He shouldn't care about that. It is none of his business. His cerulean eyes can't help but sail towards the door. No, he doesn't have that silly crush on a boy he doesn't know. It really doesn't look like him ...</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— Val ! How are you today ?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't even hear his boss come in. He nods but Seb doesn't take offense, seeming particularly in a good mood.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— We had a new shipment of flowers, can you help me display them ?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The next time he meets Daniil, it's hockey. A sport he has practiced for a long time and loves. In the college club, he does it with his friends and they compete from time to time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After more than forty-five minutes, they take a break. The atmosphere is always equal; it’s very good. It’s there that he notices someone on the edge of the ice rink, leaning against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— What are you doing here ? he ends up asking, bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— I was not aware that there was a club.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— He's always been there. You want to play ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— I don't think I have the essentials on me.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a sip of water, feeling the gaze of the Russian who never leaves him for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— We have spare ... if you want ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— I would love to.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A smile lights up his face.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The bell rings, he rushes back into the shop, abandoning the arrangement he was handling and wiping his hands. Pierre takes a determined step towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— What can I help you with ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— I would ... I would need some advice.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Daniil doesn't approach them either, stays away and it's almost strange. The Frenchman looks pale, sickly, bruised. He is almost worried about it.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— That is to say ?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— This must be my last visit and I ... I would like a message of love or ... or a goodbye but something discreet, of ...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— Red tulips. I also have blue ipomoeas.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The student gauges the flowers he shows him. A contrast between the deep colors is played out in an image. A pale glow illuminates his features.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— The ipomoeas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— Very well.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He makes the bouquet as usual and it brings a certain nostalgia. These little visits distracted his daily life and he never hesitated to see the other computer student. He even ended up becoming attached to his client.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— Goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Valtteri hesitates for a moment, a small moment during which he pauses briefly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— Take care of yourself, Pierre.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He almost thinks he sees a flash of recognition shining in the depths of his eyes. A moment later, he discovers a small piece of paper lying on the counter. A number. Daniil's.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Getting it back is an idea. His little romance that takes a bigger hit. He closes his eyes, grabs the paper lightly, wondering if that's really a good thing.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their meetings are increasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hockey, coffee, even in lessons where the youngest one sits by his side. They talk every now and then, they talk about everything and nothing and he feels that crush building up where he just wants to put it aside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They kiss a little too quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything is surely going too fast. He thinks this over and over again. They sleep together and it's the effect of a bomb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes care of the flower shop and Sebastian becomes more gloomy, sadder. Something has happened and, again, he shouldn't help but is still worried. More than worried about the people around him where he should be for himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During their dates, Daniil, no, Dany, gives him flowers and it's terribly romantic but terribly cliché for someone who works at a florist. It's cute anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're clumsy, like they two can't really handle a relationship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Valtteri has his heart on his sleeve. He may seem rough at first, but that's not what qualifies him. He likes to take care of others, he loves without conditions, without barriers, without asking for anything. He loves until it gets bigger, until he gets hurt, again.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Repetitions of contrary and indecisive events. Repetitions of mistakes where he can add one more wound to his scars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Repetitions he thought he'd gotten rid of until he saw Daniil kissing Pierre.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I remember wanting to write about them pretty much. And this idea of florist as a job for a student was somehow perfect for Valtteri, I hope you liked this translation.<br/>(next parts will be more happy i swear)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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